


Your Hand in Mine

by TearsOfWinter



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Awkward Romance, Drabble, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:47:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26092852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TearsOfWinter/pseuds/TearsOfWinter
Summary: Fenris once heard, a person's hand told their life story. He knew what tale his own hands told. But what tales did Anders' hands hold?
Relationships: Anders/Fenris (Dragon Age)
Kudos: 46





	Your Hand in Mine

Fenris once heard, a person's hand told their life story. He knew what tale his own hands told. The inside of his palm was rough with callus, the pads of his fingers were thick from sword handling. He was once a pampered pet- hands soft, fingers long and slender- but he was a warrior now. He reminded himself of that truth every time he washed the blood of slavers from his hands.

Sunlight flickered from the treetops as they walked back to Kirkwall from Sundermount. When his eyes caught the glint of red-gold hair, his heart lurched in his chest. An ache, a longing.

Anders.

Subtly, Fenris traced the outline of the mage's back, memorizing his form and his shape, before his gaze lingered on Anders' hands. They too, were stained red, but unlike him, they weren't from his enemies. They were from the people he saved. The hands of a healer, they nurtured the weak and mended the broken.

From a distance, Anders fingers looked long and delicate, a sign of a privileged life, much like the magisters Fenris once knew. But upon closer inspection, it showed the struggles of his life. Like a warrior, his palm was rough and his knuckles showed signs of mend and tear, proof of his days as a Warden. As a physician, his skin was dry and cracked from the constant washing. Nails chipped, and cuticles rugged, Anders hands were far from beautiful.

But they saved lives. They made miracles happen every day. Fenris wanted a touch of that miracle in his life.

"If you stare at Blondie any harder, I'm sure he'll burst into flames."

Fenris' cheeks flushed with heat at being caught, and by Varric no less, but kept his composure. He was glad his dark complexion hid his reddened cheeks. "I'm looking ahead, dwarf. How else am I to walk? With my head held low?"

Varric laughed, and jabbed his elbow into Fenris' side. "No, but you're not going to catch him with those puppy eyes. Remember, Blondie prefers cats."

"There are no puppy eyes."

"And I'm six feet tall." With a last jab at Fenris' waist, Varric walk off to catch up with Hawke, leaving Anders and Fenris behind alone.

There was an awkward silence as the two walked side by side with nary a word between them. Inwardly, Fenris cursed at Varric. Did he have to speak so loudly? No doubt he wanted Anders to hear every word, and no doubt he was playing the matchmaker.

Fenris couldn't deny there was a budding relationship between he and Anders. There was tension in the air whenever they were near one another, gentle and sweet. Things had started out awful between them, and it would destroy him if their meddling friends ruined what they carefully established.

"Your hand..."

"What?" Fenris snapped his head in Anders' direction. Did the mage notice his staring?

"Your hand, there's a cut. You must've brushed against something."

Fenris lifted his hand to his face, and inspected it and found no cut or blood. "It's nothing to concern yourself with, mage. I'll survive."

"Fenris," Anders held his hand out, palm upward, "let me heal you. Please. I promise it'll be fast."

Fenris stared at the proffered hand, and after a heartbeat of hesitation, slipped his hand into Anders'. If Fenris expected an aura of blue light, or a spark of healing magic, it never happened. Anders threaded his fingers through his, rough palm against rough palm, and squeezed.

Realizing the duplicity, Fenris smiled. He returned Anders' grip, and the two began walking, their linked hands swinging between them.

"I thought this 'healing' was supposed to be fast."

"It is fast," Anders replied, the rough pad of his thumb tracing the back of Fenris' hand, "when you consider how long it took us to get here."

"And where is 'here'?"

"I don't know." Anders shrugged. "Somewhere between you undressing me with your eyes in the middle of the woods and staring at my hands because you wanted to hold it?" The mage had the nerve to wink cheekily at him. "Somewhere around there?"

Fenris raised a brow. If Anders expected embarrassment, then the he didn't know him as well as he should. Fenris would have to remedy that. "I was hoping it was somewhere between the sheets. Tonight. My place or yours, you choose, mage."

"Wow, you sure are subtle." Anders tried to act unaffected, but Fenris felt the rise in temperature of Anders' palm. Despite Anders' smooth words, he must be nervous. There was sweat coming from his palm. "I guess you win this round. I'll concede. For now. I thought I had you this time. I _will_ make you blush, one day, Fenris. I swear on Andraste's bosom, I will." He moved to retract his hand, but Fenris' held firm.

"Wait. A little longer," Fenris said, nervous and unsure because he wasn't used to voicing out his needs and wants. "Until... until we get back to Kirkwall."

The tender smile that bloomed on Anders face... It made Fenris realize how beautiful the man really was. "Of course."

Fenris relinked their fingers and held firm. Much like the person himself, there was nothing soft about Anders' hands except for his touch. It was all Fenris needed. A touch of miracle.


End file.
